Stay
by rahleeyah
Summary: At the end of a successful case, Andy and Sharon reconnect.


_Where have you been,  
>My long lost friend?<br>It's good to see you again  
>Come and sit for awhile<br>I've missed your smile  
>Today the past is goodbye<br>Time can't erase  
>A lover's embrace…<br>There is a way to make you stay  
>Darlin' don't turn away<br>Don't doubt your heart_

_And keep us apart  
>I'm right where you are<br>Stay  
>-"Stay", Alison Krauss &amp; Union Station<em>

···

Another case successfully closed, with no small amount of help from one Sharon Raydor, and Major Crimes had gone out for drinks to celebrate. The evening had gone remarkably well, even with the addition of the dark-haired Captain to their ranks. Provenza and Tao were roaring drunk in no time, Buzz and Gabriel watching their antics with amused expressions on their faces. Brenda was nestled in the crook of her husband's arm, nursing a single glass of wine and unable to tear her eyes away from the strange show Flynn and Raydor were putting on at the far end of the table.

When they arrived, Flynn had pulled out the chair at the head of the table for the Captain, and promptly dropped himself down directly to her right, so close to her that their knees touched every time one of them moved even the slightest bit. It had only taken half a beer to get the normally reserved Captain talking, and they had been chatting amiably for most of the night. Brenda didn't understand it, and to be perfectly honest, she wasn't happy about it. Brenda liked to think she had developed a good rapport with her squad, especially with the acerbic Lieutenant, and the more Captain Raydor was around, the more Brenda was beginning to realize just how little she knew about Flynn.

The sound of Raydor's laugh, a deep throaty sound Brenda wasn't used to hearing, floated down the table.

"I didn't think you'd come out with us tonight," Flynn said to her quietly, watching her over the rim of his glass of club soda, a smile twinkling at the corners of his eyes.

"Well, I like to keep you on your toes," she said, smirking, the way she always did when he was around.

"Oh, I remember," he replied, and she laughed, looking up in time to catch Brenda's eye. The Chief looked away quickly, blushing ever so slightly. Sharon allowed herself only a moment to wonder what exactly it was the Chief was staring at before she returned her attention the conversation.

It should have felt stranger than it did, sharing a drink with Andy again after all these years. It had been ages since they had so much as pretended to like each other, and these last few months had been a godsend for Sharon. A chance to slowly but surely put back together what they had so effectively broken. She had carried the pain of that brokenness in her heart, constantly telling herself that she deserved it, that every time she saw him and he turned away it was her penance for the things that she had done. But now, now they were almost friends again. They actually spoke pleasantly to one another, every once in awhile. And every once in awhile, she caught him looking at her the way he used to, and she felt that old familiar flutter in her stomach.

Like tonight.

She couldn't seem to stop smiling, even when she looked away from him and surveyed the table, watching the laughter and banter as the squad celebrated their most recent victory.

"I had fun today," she said, and he studied her curiously, as if he were trying to determine her motives, attempting to plan his next move. She knew he was trying to figure out where this was headed, because she was, too. She felt as if they were a train on its tracks, barreling together into the darkness towards some unknown destination. She was ready to see where they were going.

"I could tell," he told her. "It's been a long time since I've seen you smile so much."

She just hummed, her standard response, and took another sip of her beer.

"Sharon, I wanted to tell you that I'm sor-"

"Don't even say it, Andy," she cut him off. She'd been expecting that apology from him, had seen it looming from the moment they entered the bar. She didn't want it, didn't want to hear the words, didn't want to ruin this perfect moment in this too-warm bar while she clutched her too-flat beer and prayed he'd keep his mouth shut.

"Jesus, Sharon, just let me say it. I'm sorry I wasn't at the funeral."

And there it was. She'd been riding a wave of something very near euphoria for the last few hours, overjoyed that they'd caught their man, that Major Crimes had included her, that she had gotten to pal around with Andy like they had in the old days, and he had just popped the balloon of her happiness without a moment's hesitation.

"That was six years ago, Andy. Can we please just… not do this? Not tonight? Can we please just be happy?"

He shrugged. "Is that what we are?"

She sighed and finished her beer in one go. "Please don't worry about it. You and I weren't even talking then. You had your new boss and your new squad and you were busy and… honestly, if you'd come, I think Jack would have rolled over in his grave." Her ex-husband (rest his soul) had never been particularly fond of Andy, and Sharon had the feeling that a little thing like dying wouldn't have laid to rest the feud between them.

Andy snorted, a sound that was almost a laugh, and Sharon felt a little bit better. It was nice to tell each other the truth again.

"He did say he'd kick my ass if he ever saw me again."

"Hmm, yes he did," she said, trying to catch their waiter's eye. She needed another beer. Or three.

"How are your kids?" he asked, trying to act like he was changing the topic even though he really wasn't. "The girls must be in college by now."

She nodded. The waiter wasn't so much as glancing in their direction. Sharon was considering jumping up and down to get his attention. "I don't know what I'm going to do when Sam finally leaves home. Maybe I'll sell the house."

"Nah," Andy said, shaking his head. "That's a great house. You should stay."

"It'll be awful empty without the kids," she said, and his smile was tinged with just enough sadness to make her feel guilty. "What about your kids? See them much?"

"Not really. I think the ex is still pissed about last Christmas."

Sharon nodded, smiling as she ran her finger around the rim of her empty glass. "It was a bit of a shit-show, wasn't it?"

He laughed, and once again Sharon caught the Chief staring daggers at her, as if by making Andy laugh Sharon was somehow corrupting their squad.

"That's one way of putting it. I'm glad you were there, though. It's been nice, having you around." He stared into his almost-empty club soda. "I've missed you," he added softly, and Sharon just stared at him, wondering if she'd imagined it.

The Chief wasn't the only one watching Andy and Sharon. Provenza had been keeping an eye on them, too, watching as his long-held suspicions seemed to be proven right in front of him. He rose to his feet rather unsteadily and declared, "Well, I think that's all for me. Drive me home, Gabriel?" he asked, and Gabriel rolled his eyes.

"Every time," he said with a good-natured smile as he stood up and pulled on his jacket.

"I should probably take Lieutenant Tao home, too," Buzz said, swatting Tao's hand away when the Lieutenant reached for his glass.

"Y'all leaving so soon?" Brenda asked, pouting.

"We were just getting started!" Andy protested.

"I know you were," Provenza grunted, his voice so low it didn't carry past Andy's ears.

"We should probably go, too," Fritz said, squeezing Brenda's arm lightly, and she gave up whatever protest she'd been forming. She'd have to wait and ask Andy about his history with Sharon Raydor another day.

They closed their tab and then they were all shuffling out towards the door, saying their good-byes, the sober men guiding their slightly-tipsy charges towards their cars, but Andy and Sharon lingered. They moved slower than they should have, pulling their coats on, leaving tips on the table, talking quietly. Neither was ready to let this moment go, yet. They had touched on something for a moment tonight, a feeling they had almost forgotten, like a memory that washes over you when you hear an old song on the radio.

They stood alone on the curb outside the bar, ostensibly so Sharon could wait for a cab. Neither one of them made any move to flag one down, however.

"I meant what I said you know," Andy told her suddenly, and she turned to him sharply, the hem of her navy trench coat swirling theatrically around her bare knees. "I really have missed you."

"Andy-" she said, trying to come up with the right words to follow such a statement, when the truth was she'd missed him, too. Missed their easy banter, their habit of finishing each other's sentences, the gentle teasing and the feel of his arms around her in the morning. It had been years since they were able to be open with each other, and in this moment, spurred on by a quiet conversation at the end of a noisy table, Andy seemed hell-bent on turning back the clock.

He kissed her then, kissed her because he didn't want to know what she was going to say, because he didn't want to let this go without trying, because she looked beautiful in the glow of the streetlights, because he couldn't live with himself if he didn't at least try.

And she kissed him back, because if she was honest, she had wanted to from the moment they walked into the bar that night.

One of his hands was holding her face close to his, the other tangled in her hair, pulling her in, remembering the feeling of them together. She shifted just enough to fling her arms around his neck, standing on her toes because even in her stilettos he was taller than her.

"Don't walk away from me again," he whispered against her lips, and she made a sound in the back of her throat that was almost a whimper. She felt like crying and laughing all at once, and she couldn't decide what to do.

He dropped his hands, slipping an arm around her thin waist, kissing her neck for a moment before pulling away.

"Come with me? Please?" he asked, and she nodded.

···

She rode in the passenger's seat of his car, asking herself over and over again _what__the__hell__are__you__doing?_ Until she felt his hand, warm and strong, settle on her thigh, just below the hem of her skirt. He kept it there, not moving, a chance for her to change her mind and a promise for all that they could be if she chose to stay. She had run away from Andy before, and when she felt his hand on her skin she knew she wouldn't do it again. She couldn't.

It wasn't the booze; two beers over the course of as many hours wasn't enough to justify making bad decisions. Whatever she did from here on out was her fault, and there would be no one else to blame.

She covered his hand with her own, running her thumb over the veins on the back, over the bump of his knuckles, watching his face.

He smiled.

···

They pulled up in front of her house, and Sharon turned slightly in her seat, staring at him.

"You remember where I live?" she asked, incredulous, trying to ignore the fact that her movement had caused his hand to slide even further up on her leg.

He shrugged, squeezing her leg gently before he removed his hand, turning off the car.

"I remember the things that are important to me."

His hand was on the door handle when he suddenly stopped and turned to her.

"Is Sam home?"

Sharon shook her head, heart pounding in her chest. They were really going to do this.

"He's staying with a friend for the night."

Andy nodded, his eyes lingering on her face for a moment before got out of the car.

Sharon remained still, feeling as though her legs wouldn't work. This was madness. Whatever she felt for Andy, this was a terrible idea. They couldn't pick up where they left off, they couldn't just fall into bed together and expect all the terrible things they'd done to each other to just disappear. Surely forgiveness wasn't this easy.

Or was it?

Was this the only way they ever could apologize to each other? To say sorry for the disparaging words, the unkind actions, the thousands of little things they'd done to each other over the years, just because they could. Maybe it was.

She didn't have long to think about it, however, because Andy had opened her car door, and he held out his hand to help her step out.

It was unnecessary, really, but Sharon had learned long ago that Andy Flynn– for all his misogynist rhetoric- was quite the gentleman.

Except he revealed his true intentions, because the moment she was steady on her feet, he dropped an arm low around her hips and brought her close to him, hesitating for only the briefest of moments before he covered her mouth with his own. And, _God_, how she had missed this, this feeling she got when he held her, like he never wanted to let go. Like he never would.

They were leaned up against the car still, though, and Sharon wasn't about to do this in the driveway.

She slipped out of his grip, glancing back over her shoulder as she waltzed up the sidewalk, grinning when she saw the look on his face, that of a man utterly in love. A look she knew well, a look she had seen dance across his features in the stillness of all those mornings she had tried to forget in the intervening years between their falling apart and their recent falling together.

He was behind her by the time she reached the doorknob, his hands spanning her waist and his breath warm by her ear. There was no fumbling for her keys, no awkward rush. They had been building towards this moment from the day she walked away from him all those years ago; every time they argued, every time he drew little stick-figure witches on the murder board, they were really trying to find a way to get back into this position, and now that they were, she wanted them to take their time.

She pushed the door open, and he followed her through the door, refusing to give up his grip on her hips. She had always liked that about him; he held onto her as though he were afraid of her slipping away from him. She had no intentions of leaving him tonight.

Once inside, Andy let go just long enough to shut and lock the door behind him, and Sharon took the opportunity to shrug out of her coat. He smiled as he watched her throw it across the back of the couch, and run her fingers through her wealth of hair. She wondered if he would speak, but he didn't.

He just crossed the space between them until there was no space left at all.

"I missed you, too," she whispered, and he lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist with no prompting. She kissed his cheek, his jaw, his neck, whatever skin she could reach, every place she had missed, as he carried her down the hall towards her bedroom.

He hadn't forgotten where that was, either.

Once inside, he sat her on her feet, and this time it was her kissing him, pulling his head down to her, tongue dancing around his lips until he opened to her and suddenly their lips and tongues were dancing, and for the first time in a long time, Sharon felt like everything was going to be ok.

His fingers played across the back of her neck, tracing the length of her spine until he found the hem of her shirt. He hesitated for a moment, waiting for the go-ahead, and Sharon took the initiative, reaching down and pulling the shirt off herself.

He grinned. "You do keep me on my toes," he told her, and she just laughed, dancing away from him, shimmying out of her skirt while he watched, entranced.

"Catch up," she told him, bracing herself with a hand on her dresser as she pulled off her shoes, and he obliged, fingers going to the buttons of his own shirt.

This was the part Sharon had been afraid of, this moment when they finally saw each other, when they would take note of all the changes their bodies had gone through since the last time they had seen each other naked. She worried about what he would think, what she would think, if time would change their attraction to each other, if maybe lightning really didn't strike twice and they would be left alone without anyone to hold on to.

She realized as she stared at him, watching her with hungry eyes, that she had been very, _very_ wrong.

"You know, Sharon, you're still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he told her as he threw his shirt on the floor and started working on his belt.

"Oh, you just want in my pants," she told him teasingly, finally getting her shoes off.

"You're not wearing any pants," he countered.

"Neither are you," she pointed out as his trousers pooled around his ankles and he kicked them away.

They faced off then, like a sheriff and a robber in an old western, only they were both barefoot and wearing nothing but their underwear.

They moved forward at the same time, crossing the space between them together, until she could feel his skin against her skin, his heartbeat under the hand she rested against his chest.

"You'll always be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he told her, kissing the wrinkles at the corner of her eye, and she smiled sadly, because she knew he was telling the truth. From the moment they met, she'd only had eyes for him, and she'd always suspected that he felt the same. They had been with other people for more time than they had ever been together, and yet neither of them could shake the other, like a pair of socks with a hole in the heel that you never throw away because you always liked them best.

His hands found their way across her back as his lips traced the length of her neck, and she shivered in his arms, wanting him more than she could remember wanting anyone for a very long time now. He loosed the clasp of her bra, and eased it down her arms and onto the floor. His lips never left her skin as he nudged her softly, guiding her until her knees hit the edge of the bed. He pushed her gently backwards, and she went, tugging him down with her.

His tongue was in her mouth again, his hands inching upwards from her waist to her now-bare breasts, and she had to remind herself that she wanted to take her time tonight. She wanted a thousand different things all at once, and Andy seemed willing to give them all to her, and more.

His fingers toyed with her nipples, his tongue slipping and sliding against her own, remembering all the little things that made her arch up underneath him. She reached for his boxers, but he stopped her.

"Not yet," he said.

"Not yet?" she repeated, arching her eyebrow in disbelief.

"I've got plans for you," he whispered against the corner of her mouth before his lips took up a different journey. He took her hands in his own, wrapping them around the top of the headboard as he kissed a path down from her mouth to her neck, over her collarbones, his destination clear.

She let out a soft moan as his lips latched around one dusky nipple, as his tongue flicked against the hard tip. She arched under him, pressing herself against his mouth, wanting to hold his head close to her but instead keeping her hands right where he had put them.

He licked a path across her skin to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment, making her moan again.

He loved the sounds she made.

He took his time as his mouth traced patterns across her skin, relearning her responses, her needs, the little ticklish spots of her body. She longed to touch him, but she liked this, this waiting, this letting him lead the way. She'd get her chance.

He was making his way down her stomach, towards the thatch of auburn curls at the apex of her legs, and she dropped her knees apart in anticipation.

His hands gripped her thighs, almost hard enough to bruise, and she liked that, too. They would mark each other, and they would remember this night every time they looked in the mirror for days to come.

He eased her panties down her legs and dropped them on the floor before returning to his task, and she cried out at the first swipe of his tongue against her sex, at the feel of his breath against her folds. He teased her for several long moments, not pushing inside, not touching her clit, just tasting her as she writhed beneath him, unable to find the words she wanted to say.

She felt his fingers at her entrance and her hips bucked up almost of their own volition, begging for his touch.

He was happy to oblige.

Two long fingers slid easily inside her just as his lips wrapped around her clit, and a sound that might have been his name escaped her lips. He held her hips down with one strong hand, and continued to thrust the other inside her, over and over, until the combined sensation of his fingers and his mouth sent her spiraling over the edge with a cry. He held her steady as she trembled, laying tender kisses on the inside of her thigh.

She reached down with shaking hands and ran her fingers through his hair, and laughed aloud when he smiled impishly at her.

"Get up here," she told him, and he did as she asked.

He stretched out across her naked body, marveling for just a moment at how well they still fit together. He knew why it had been so long since they'd been together this way, knew it was because they were stubborn and proud and they made mistakes, but this felt right, this felt good. This felt like something he didn't want to lose again.

He ducked his head and kissed her, long and slow, tasting the warmth of Sharon once again.

She held him close, fingers still in his thick grey hair, breathing in the faint scent of the bar that mingled with Andy's cologne on his skin. She couldn't believe it had taken this long for them to find themselves in this position, but she wouldn't change this moment for anything.

She reached for his boxers again and this time he let her, shifting away from her just enough to get them down and off. He held her face in his hands for a moment, watching her smiling up at him, memorizing every line of her features, the feeling of her breathing beneath him.

She took his erection in her hands and guided him slowly to her, her green eyes never leaving his face. They sighed together as he eased down into her, remembering.

"Don't leave me again," he whispered, catching her earlobe between his teeth.

"I never left you," she answered, shivering as he thrust shallowly inside her, "I've always been right here."

He had almost found a rhythm when she did something he was not expecting- she flipped him over easily, with a strength he had forgotten she had. She straddled his hips, grinning down at him mischievously, and he laughed.

"I told you I like to keep you on your toes," she said, dropping a hand to his chest, using it to steady herself as she rose up, and then eased back down on him, drawing a low moan from his lips.

"_God,_ you feel good," he breathed, and she leaned forward to kiss him. He gripped her hips tightly in his hands, thrusting up into her as she ground down against him, and they started up a furious tempo, moaning and sliding together until he exploded inside her at the same moment she called his name and collapsed against his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, keeping her right where she was.

···

He wasn't sure what time it was when he woke up. It was still dark out, the only light outside the window coming from the streetlamp on the corner. Sharon was nestled along his side, her dark hair spread out across his chest, her steady breathing a comfort to him. He kissed her forehead, and settled back against the pillows, content to sleep with her in his arms.


End file.
